


coveted oblivion

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, First Time, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Stratford Tower (Detroit: Become Human), The Stratford Tower Chapter (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24891700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: If he feels repentant, if he feels the need to atone then Simon will take his sin, he’ll take all of him inside of himself and he’ll return Markus to his unblemished state.
Relationships: Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	coveted oblivion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KokoneAkita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KokoneAkita/gifts).



> Well. Ok. Hear me out: [kokoneakita] posted THIS ([Twitter.](https://twitter.com/kokoneakita/status/1275539547120640000)[Tumblr.](https://kokoneakita.tumblr.com/post/621750827180277760)[Instagram.](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBy7CS5KbnS/)) and I went feral over it and smashed this out in an arvo.

Her name is Grace, the newly deviated ST300 and it’s by her grace alone that he makes it out of Stratford Tower. He’d remained huddled up on the roof, clutching a gun he didn’t know how to use, and trying to make peace with his impending death. Not that he minded dying, and at least it would be somewhat heroic, something like martyrdom, perhaps, rather than at Markus’ hand, by the word of a friend. There’s a commotion in the broadcast room, there’s gunfire and the rushing of feet as the humans run to investigate and he is alone. He remains alone just long enough for the ST300 to reach out to him, to let him know of the small window of opportunity he has to dart out of the cooling unit and back into the maintenance elevator. He slips out while the humans are busy with whatever commotion has diverted their attention from him.

It takes him all day to get back to Jericho and even then he has no idea how he managed it. The sun has set and the temperature has dropped and his busted thermal regulator struggles to keep his thirium from freezing in his lines. The gunshot wound on his thigh aches with every step, leaking thirium down his leg. At some point he manages to find a jacket to conceal his maintenance uniform and a broken piece of glass takes care of his LED. He can’t bear to throw it away though, it feels too much like losing a limb and so he pockets it. 

The rotting freighter looms up ahead and he wonders if everyone made it back, if Markus and Josh and North all survived or if some new twisted situation saw North willing to sacrifice another life for the cause. No, he can’t be bitter; they agreed on this. They agreed nothing else mattered but Markus and if they needed to die for him, they would. He just didn’t factor in how much it would hurt to hear her say it, to see Markus draw his gun on him. He knows he’s always been expendable, it just pained him to have it acknowledged.

The narrow hallways are dark and cold, and he limps through them laboriously and heads for the main area. Lucy will be able to help him repair his gunshot wound, and he knows from their warehouse raid they have thirium reserves. Turning the corner, he finds himself sharing the hallway with the first soul he’s seen since Stratford Tower. There stands Markus RK200, their fearless leader, the one who spoke while the nation listened. For a moment Simon doesn’t think he’s real. The yellow glow of the light is a halo and he looks almost holy, a blessing to look upon, a blessing Simon doesn’t deserve.

He opens his mouth but the words don’t come _. I’m here, I made it, did you miss me? Did you think I’d died? Would it matter if I did? Would you have come back for me?_ Instead Markus pulls him into his arms and squeezes him close and Simon sags against him. The exhaustion seems to have finally caught up and he clings to Markus’ coat.

“Simon I-” his voice trembles, and Simon’s never heard him sound so broken. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“You had to.” Simon mumbles into his shoulder. It takes the sting out of it, somewhat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“The cause is all that matters.” It doesn’t seem to be what Markus needs to hear, and the other android only tightens his embrace, trembling in his distress. 

“I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Then we’d all be dead and it would have all been for nothing.” He’s warm, Simon thinks distantly, he’s so warm. Markus pulls away and Simon looks at that beautiful, unique face with those mismatched eyes. What is your story, Simon wonders, who made you so beautiful and discarded you? 

“Your life is not meaningless to me.” He says it with such conviction Simon feels obliged to accept it. “I need you here with me, Simon. I need you.” 

“I’m here, Markus.” Reaching out he touches his cheek, fingers brushing the smattering of freckles dusted on his skin. He’s seen so many androids come to Jericho, he’s held so many of them as they died in his arms. None of them have ever looked like Markus, none of them have ever been as eloquent, as driven, as courageous as Markus. A one of a kind creation is the only logical explanation, but how did he end up here? How did he decide enough is enough, and freedom is owed to them all? 

Markus leans forward and presses his mouth to his. He kisses him clumsily, desperately, and Simon thinks oh. _Oh_. He’s never been kissed before, his owners never used him like that though he has the programming for it; every domestic is discreetly programmed to be sexually available should their owners wish to use them for more than just housekeeping. He supposes he should be grateful he was just a housekeeper for the Burbanks, and no matter how much North argues he was just their slave, it had been the warmest, softest, kindest time in his life- deviant or not. He knows he shouldn’t be thankful they never used him like that, it is considered baseline decency not to have sex with someone incapable of consent, and yet he is. Now he finds himself reaching for that unopened program that’s been sitting untouched ever since his activation. Simon kisses him back, changes the angle of his head slightly so he can lick into the heat of his mouth and Markus returns the gesture like he wishes to devour him whole. 

They stumble to the closest room, Markus kicking the door shut as Simon shucks off his clothing. There’s no bed but there’s a few stacked crates. They’ll make do, as usual. Markus fumbles with his boots and trousers, tossing them away and pausing when he sees the gunshot wound on his thigh. He sinks to his knees in front of him, touch almost reverent as he traces around the wound. Tilting his head, he presses slow, open mouthed kisses to his thigh, careful to avoid the bleeding reminder of his sin. Simon closes his eyes as he spreads his legs wider, Markus’ fingernails catching the discreet inseam of his genital casing and opening the hatch so he can pull his cock free. He fails to bite back a moan as Markus mouths at him hungrily, and then it’s just _hot_ and _wet_ and _slick_ as Markus swallows him down. His hands grip into the collar of his jacket, Markus still half dressed, and Simon feels so open and exposed, laid bare for him to consume. Hands grip his hips, guiding him to tilt back further, and Markus kisses lower, licks into a place no one has ever touched, not even him. Simon keens, feeling overwhelmed, and he’s so sure this isn’t real, this can’t be happening; he’s probably dying up on Stratford Tower and this is his mind trying its best to placate him while he bleeds out. Markus crawls back up to kiss him and Simon clings for dear life, hands scrambling lower between Markus’ legs so he can finally feel him, hold him, squeeze his cock in return and he hazards a guess Markus is just as aroused as he. 

“I need you, I need you, I need you Simon, I-” 

“I’m here, shhh.” He soothes, startled to see the tears dotting his lashes. “Hush my love, I’m here.” Shifting, he pushes Markus to take his place, guiding him to sit down and lean against the wall as he climbs onto his lap. “I’m yours, I’ve always been yours since the moment you fell into my life.” 

“Simon-” He moans his name, head thrown back as Simon lowers himself onto his cock and androids were made for this even if it was just fineprint hidden somewhere in the middle of their manual. He’s wet in a way a human wouldn’t be, in a place they shouldn’t be had they the same parts, and Simon groans as he sinks down slowly on his cock. Markus is thick, his girth stretching him out and Simon grits his teeth as his system rushes to cope with the influx of stimulation. When he’s fully seated on his lap he exhales shakily, looking down at Markus through half-lidded eyes and the other android is gazing at him in the same reverent way he touched him. As if he’s the one who’s holy, as if he’s the one who’s precious. Simon can barely stand it. 

“Don’t think.” He whispers, cupping his face and smudging the words against his lips. “Just feel. Just let go. I’m here.”

If he feels repentant, if he feels the need to atone then Simon will take his sin, he’ll take all of him inside of himself and he’ll return Markus to his unblemished state. Hands return to grip his hips, this time hard enough to bruise if he were human. Markus pushes into him, hips snapping up into the heat of him as Simon clutches his shoulders and rides him. This isn’t real, it can’t be real; he is no one, he is nothing to Markus. If it’s real then it means Markus simply needs an outlet for all his feelings. He’s young, he’s new, so new to deviancy and Simon knows breaking through those red walls is akin to breaking down the dam holding back a torrent of emotions. 

He wonders if Markus was made for pleasure the way North was, if some rich human commissioned an artist to sculpt this beautiful lover. He wonders if Markus laid with his human like this, if they revelled in the way he creases his brows, and chews his lip and grips their hips just a little too hard. Simon sighs into his mouth and Markus kisses him, gasping his name against his lips. He smudges the tears from those mismatched eyes and wonders if his human unraveled him the way he’s falling apart in Simon’s arms. What a gift Markus must have been to the one who owned him.

“S-Simon-!” He bites Simon’s shoulder to muffle his cries as he spills himself in him and Simon feels his toes curl as he chases him into his own climax. Everything fades away into white-hot oblivion for a few blessed moments and Simon loses himself to the pleasure of it all. The world outside doesn’t exist, there is no one else but Markus and no one else can take this from him. Markus leans his brow against his collarbone, trembling faintly. He’s looking down, and when Simon follows his gaze he finds Markus looking at his hand where he’s accidentally brushed it against the gunshot wound. Blood is smeared along Simon’s thigh, staining Markus’ fingers, staining the bliss they just reached together. Taking his hand, Simon suckles on his fingers until the blue is gone. He won’t let anything ruin this moment, this is theirs and it must remain holy and unsullied. 

“I’m sorry.” Markus whispers, kissing him softly. What a sweet, silly boy.

“So am I.” Simon eases off his lap and retrieves his clothes. The moment is over, and he will cradle it as a precious memory; his own coveted oblivion. 

“Simon-”

“I’ll go see Lucy and have it treated, don’t worry.” He numbs himself again, he pushes it out of his mind and he doesn’t look over his shoulder. He won’t be able to help himself if he looks into Markus’ lovely eyes, so he dresses quickly, closing the door behind him and locking the memory away. 

* * *

“We did it.” Markus says, voice feathersoft with awe. All around them the androids cheer and the military retreat as per the president’s orders. They sang and they survived. Well, they sang and Connor flooded the streets of Detroit with newly awakened androids from CyberLife Tower and forced the president’s hand through sheer numbers alone. At least Joss Douglas got a good story out of it, and social media is going crazy for the livestreams and videos uploaded by the journalists and nosy civilians who ignored the lockdown; #holdon #theyarealive #freethem 

“We’re finally free.” North says and he’s never seen her smile like this, something defiant and triumphant without any trace of sorrow despite the tears in her eyes. Josh laughs shakily, throwing an arm around his shoulders and Simon finds himself doing both- laughing with tears in his eyes. Markus looks over his shoulder, catching his gaze. He steps forward and Josh steps back, giving them a moment of privacy as he cajoles North into talking with Connor instead.

“I wasn’t saying sorry for what we did.” Markus pries into that barely healed wound, digging his fingers into it and pulling it open again. Simon had tried his best to forget it, he was just being a good friend, just providing a distraction to settle Markus’ nerves. He’s a domestic, it’s just what domestics do. “I’d never feel sorry for loving you.”

“It wasn’t love, Markus.” Simon shakes his head, though he doesn’t pull away when Markus reaches for his hand. “You just needed someone to help you forget everything for a little while.”

“I needed _you_. I still need you.” Markus says fiercely, with such conviction as if he were addressing the nation all over again. And then just like that the confidence drops. “If- if you would have me.”

What a concept- to _have_ Markus. Simon nearly laughs at the absurdity of it all. Markus looks up distractedly, hand reaching up to brush snowflakes from his hair. This silly boy, so young and new and yet so brave and courageous he led them all to freedom. This android, ra9 incarnate, wants a broken PL600 to love? 

“Why?”

“Because I can’t do this alone.” Markus squeezes his hand. “Because I love you and I couldn’t stand it if you walked away thinking I just used you.”

And just like that he’s back in that narrow hallway, stumbling in from the cold, from Stratford Tower, with a busted leg and a stolen jacket and there’s Markus standing in front of him with a halo of light behind his head. It’s real, it happened, and it wasn’t a mistake. The revelation chokes a sob from him and just like that cold, hopeless night, Markus steps forward and pulls him into his arms. Just like that cold, hopeless night Markus leans forward and presses his mouth to his. Only this time, Simon lets himself fall, lets himself drown and be swept away in his love. 

Behind him, North cheers very loudly and Josh hurriedly hushes her, and they pull away laughing. The heaviness between them dissipates and there’s joy twinkling in those beautiful blue and green eyes. 

“Wherever you go, Markus,” He brings their clasped hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles, “I’ll follow.”

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still on this hellsite.](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/)   
> 


End file.
